


Blessed be the fruit!

by Bami808



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ceremony Sex, Crossover, Forced Pregnancy, Geraskier, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Abortion, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ritual Sex, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bami808/pseuds/Bami808
Summary: Atomic catastrophes, climatic changes and sexual diseases made humanity nearly sterile.The world needed a revolution and Gilead answered the call. In the new order, fertile women and omega must bear children for their leaders to rebuild the dwindling population.(Based on the TV series 'The handmaid's tale')
Relationships: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 34
Kudos: 130





	1. Getaway

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind. English isn't my native language.
> 
> It's my first work and I hope you like it.
> 
> None of the characters belong to me.

He ran. The cold air stung inside his lungs and his muscles burned.   
Shouting voices and screams trailed behind him. Dogs barked and the heavy steps of armored men became louder and louder.

He was close. So close to the border.  
He should have gone earlier. But he couldn't. He should have though.  
The ground was frozen in the woods. He knew where to go but there were not many hiding spots in this season. Normally he orientated himself easily here as this was the usual playground of his daughter, when they went on vacation.   
Now they tried to escape from the men behind them.  
He struggled while running down a hill. The old leaves under his feet slid away and the child's weight in his arms made it hard to stay upright.  
There was a small hole under a dead tree, not deeper than a meter into the hill. Ciri had always tried to hide there when they played Hide and Seek. But this was no game. It was far from it.

He crawled in the hole and tried to calm his breathing.  
Every noise they made could alarm the men searching for him and his daughter.  
“Daddy?” his daughter whispered quietly, her voice tight from fear and he put a hand over her mouth. He held her tight and pulled her even closer to his body.  
“Sshhh!”   
Both pressed closer to the earthen wall behind them. Steps echoed over them. They were close. He put a hand over his own mouth as well and held his breath.  
The earth under him was cold and wet. He wished he had the time to grab a proper coat for this weather but he only got one for Ciri. She was warm and that had to suffice. He was sweating anyway after the physical effort of their escape. 

His heart hammered inside his chest and hands shook. If they were to discover them…  
He closed his eyes and prayed silently for them to go away. To a different direction towards the border, losing their trail.   
He saw the tip of a soldier's boot over the edge of a foot and then his gun. This was the typical military equipment,deadly to all the traitors or enemies of Gilead.  
He made both of them as small as possible.

“Where did they go?”   
Someone shouted and the man over them seemed to turn around.   
“They can't be far. Search the whole area!”  
More shouts and heavy footsteps were heard but they didn’t move in their line of sight. The soldiers continued their search and left some minutes after their search wasn’t successful.  
The white haired man waited, listening. He didn’t dare to move an inch. The voices quieted down and he carefully stepped out of his hideout. He picked up Ciri and started to run again. They needed to cross the border. It wasn’t safe here.

His arms felt so heavy and his lungs burned, but he had to move on. For his daughter that held tight. Her hands fisted in his pullover and white hair. She trembled from the cold and fear, too young to understand why they had to run but she knew when they didn't, they would be separated.   
“OVER THERE! THEY RUN NORTH!”  
The blood in his veins turned cold. They had spotted them.   
“No no no no no…”  
“Daddy!”, Ciri cried out when the soldiers ran after them, closing the distance between them. They weren’t slow or exhausted and didn't have to carry a 9 year old child in their arms.  
He cursed to himself. Why didn’t he run earlier? This was his fault. He mobilized his last strength. Everything he could give, what he had left. 

The first shots hit the trees next to them. Just a warning, he told himself. They wouldn’t dare to kill or hurt a child, so he ran even faster. The next bullet passed by his head so close, that he could have sworn it missed him by just a few centimeters.  
“Fuck!”   
He turned and changed directions.   
Just further away, far away from them! He had to do it, he couldn’t fail! Not when Ciri wasn’t safe yet.  
He spotted a soldier through the trees and had to make a turn again. 

Not now. Not when they were so close! The border was just a mile away. They got so far…

A sharp pain shot through his leg and he lost his balance. Ciri screamed when he fell and rolled over his shoulder so she wouldn’t be hurt. He clenched his teeth hard, trying to get up. His daughter cried and tugged at his pullover. “Daddy!”  
Shouts echoed through the woods. Before he was able to get to his feet again, the soldiers were on them.  
Ciri screamed even louder when one of the men took hold of her. She kicked and hit her captor as hard as she could but he was stronger.

It took three men to hold Geralt down, two on his torso and one securing his legs.  
“Let go! Leave us alone! NO!”   
Pure panic rose in him as the soldiers took Ciri away.   
"No, please don't take her! Please! Ciri!"  
He shouted and fought against the hold of the other men. He wasn't weak by any means and was able to land a hard kick on one of his captors. The soldiers screamed at him, trying to suppress his struggles and two more soldiers joined in to hold him down.  
He didn't understand what they said, he just saw them taking his daughter away. Only heard her cries and screaming for him.   
"CIRI!" 

Gilead's wasn't very patient with rebels and traitors. He felt cold metal at his neck and electricity ran through him. The sharp pain made him howl but he didn't give up yet. As long as he was able to still think straight, he would fight for Ciri.   
The men weren't on him anymore. His shot leg trembled when he tried to get up. This sign of rebellion just caused him more pain, more shocks were sent through his body. His vision went white with the energy running through his muscles. The white-haired man took as much as he could until he hit ground lifelessly, only mumbling Ciri's name like a mantra. 

They shoved him inside one of their trucks, securing him with thick straps around his wrists, ankles and neck. His head was spinning and he was unable to keep his gaze to a fixed point,black spots dancing before his vision. He tasted the copper aroma of blood in his mouth, his body not reacting to any of his thoughts. A tremble wrecked his body and his tongue felt too heavy. There was only one thing on his mind.

"Ci... ri..." 

He blacked out, the crying voice of his daughter ringing loudly in his ears.


	2. Welcome to Gilead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy about every comment, kudo and bookmark. Thank you so much!
> 
> so_damn_Mishalicious is my wonderful beta!
> 
> Like the last time:  
> I don't own the characters or anything about them and i earn no money with it.
> 
> English isn't my native language.

The room they provided for him was small. Just a bed, a chair, a little nightstand with a lamp. A closet containing his new clothes.  
The door was broken, it's lock didn’t close properly. A simple bathroom also belonged to the place. Not more than a sink, a toilet and a bathtub inside.

He didn’t need more in their opinion. It was enough to fulfill his duty to Gilead, the new state, where the United States had been before.

The world changed since many years after suffering through atomic catastrophes, climatic changes and sexual diseases, which made humanity nearly sterile. The government tried to prevent the worst. Terrorists attacked the white house. At least this was what they told the public; martial law was activated. The known law no longer mattered. They were taking over step by step. Without noticing, they reformed the government, published new decrees and fought against every nation that didn’t agree with Gilead's perception.

He went downstairs, with slow, heavy steps, and stopped at the kitchen. The Martha kneaded a dough to bake bread later. Gilead turned back to a traditional life. They were proud of their ultraconservative values. A life purely dedicated to god. Back to a working system, where everybody had their assigned task. Their destiny was the greater good. So, they situated people into a system, a hierarchy.

On top were the spiritual leaders, founders of Gilead and revolutionists of the new world order. Their ranks were all military - Generals, commanders, officers only. Easy to be recognized by their military uniforms or luxurious suits.

Each had been assigned with a loyal wife. Most of them sterile. They served as the head of the house and felt honored to serve their men with full dedication. Their dresses were of blueish-green colour.

Under them served the less powerful men. Men who weren’t influential enough to get a wife in the first place. They worked in the local shops and kept the system running. Dressed in black uniforms mainly to let them disappear in the background. Those among these men who were lucky enough to have a family before the revolution started were allowed to keep them as long as they followed all the rules. True believers that had to life a humble life. 

The Marthas were only women, who couldn’t bear children at all or anymore and weren’t lucky enough to have a husband of high rank. They worked for the commanders, kept the house clean, cooked and took care of everything the wifes didn’t want to be bothered with. Their uniforms tended to be grey, brown or a worn out green.

The lowest rank of society were workers in the colonies. Doomed to work in a toxic area until they died of the contaminated air or water. To work there was punishment, a last evasion to execution.

And there were the handmaidens. They had a special position in the new society. Not worthy to make their own decisions, but not as poorly treated as the workers in the colonies.

This special group of fertile women and omega were able to bear children. They were dressed red. The women in an ankle length dress or skirt with a long shirt, the male omega in long shirts and pants. They had to cover their hair with a white hood.

Every morning he braided his hair into a tight bun and shoved it under the hood. They were easy to identify as the bright red popped out, wherever the handmaidens went.

“Stop staring at me! You always appear when I’m busy.” the Martha shouted at him. He nodded and walked through the kitchen. “Sorry.” He murmured and sat down at the table.

“You have to wait till I’m done. Get up earlier next time.” she said while she heated the oven and some noises from bowls and pots filled the room.

“Hm…”  
He waited silently, sitting upright at the table, his gaze wandering to the glass door leading outside. The view into the garden was nice. They planted their own vegetables and herbs there. The planet had to renew so an organic lifestyle had been ordered.

Steps came closer fast and stopped next to him. He looked up to the lady of the house, Fringilla.

“Just lazing around, I see… at least try to be useful, Ofcahir. We need some meat and fish from the market. Hurry to get there before everything is gone.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He bowed his head and walked over to the Martha. She also kept her head down and searched for the right food stamps. Food was strict regulated in Gilead. Every household got only what they needed, nothing more. She handed him the small papers and shot him a short look.

“Why is this taking so long?” Fringillas tone was sharp and let the Martha shiver. “Ofcahir! Now!”

“Thanks.” He said in a low voice.  
Ofcahir.  
It wasn’t his name. However, he was not in the position to have a name of his own anymore. The master of the house, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach owned him, so he shared his first name. Nobody could misunderstand who he belonged to.

He grabbed his coat, a red one of course, red gloves and was on his way out of the mansion. Outside the gate another handmaid waited for him. Like him the maid had pulled the white ‘wings’ over the hood to frame and hide their faces.

They weren’t allowed to go anywhere alone. Just another method to control every single step they did.

“Blessed be the fruit!” an voice unknown to him greeted. Just yesterday a girl, he had known for five weeks but rarely spoke more than 30 words to, had been in the place of the new maid. Maybe she had been disobedient. These maids were replaced. Tortured in the red center, to break their will and become a pliant vessel. Repeatedly. Until they broke them completely. He knew some of the captives that were going mad after the treatment. Not capable of getting over the bodily horror they had to go through.

‘The eyes’ punished every act of rebellion hard. An operative group of the new government. Military trained mercenaries in black vans and black suits. Their present was ubiquitous.

Maybe she had committed a suicide. It wasn’t uncommon under handmaids. He had thought about it too. When it was too much to bear.

“May the lord open.” He returned as he was told in the red center. They walked next to each other down the road, heads bowed, just taking short looks at the other. The handmaid was an omega like him. Strands of short brown hair appeared under the white hood and blue eyes stared at the ground.

His body was way shorter and thinner than his, a typical omega body type. Wide hips, smaller shoulders than alpha or beta men and a nice round face. He was attractive from what he could see. So very different from his own form.

He was tall. Even bigger than some alphas. He had worked hard, all his life. So he was strong, all wide shoulders, a sharp face line and a trained body. White hair framed his face and his eyes were an unnatural shade of light brown, nearly orange.

He had been mistaken as a Beta or Alpha often before Gilead caught him.

+++***+++

Fringilla looked displeased when she sat in front of him. Her curly dark hair was braided straight back, formed into a round knot. A typicall hairstyle of Gilead's wifes. Her hands folded in her lap, no wrinkle in her petrol dress.

Her husband was one of the higher commanders of Gilead and he had only been granted an omega like him.

He had expected their reaction. What faithful man would want a male omega in his bed, even if it was just to fulfill the holy duty of reproducing humanity.

“He is late!” She said clearly unsatisfied. Her gaze narrowed on the door and she crossed her arms impatiently.

Her husband had to be with her when they were to receive their new handmaid. Her foot tapped nervously on the ground. She seemed to become more and more impatient the longer she was forced to wait.

She put her arms back to her sides and turned to him.  
“We can start… my husband will join us later.”  
She draped her dress carefully over her legs when she crossed them.

“You’re now property of this house and you will behave like it in public. You will be punished for every misbehavior. Am I clear?”

He nodded. “Yes Ma’am!”  
Better to agree with the masters' words when he wanted his tongue to stay in his mouth.  
She seemed pleased by his answer. Her facial expression softened just a bit.

“Good. At least you know the simplest manners. The last one was more like an uncivilized dog, than a human… I hope you won’t disappoint me as much as she did. Even if you are… such an unpleasant appearance.”

Fringilla left no room for interpretation. She wanted a girl to bear her child, not an omega like him. He nodded again and he clenched his fists in his lap.

The door clicked and a man entered the room. He apologized himself and kissed Fringilla on her cheek. He turned to the maid and his gaze became colder. “So this is the new one?”

His wife nodded and crossed her arms again.  
“I will talk to them about it… but we’ll make the best out of it. I’m commander Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. You are ‘Ofcahir’ now. Blessed be the fruit.”

His stomach cramped at the words. His true name was stripped off him like it meant nothing and he had to do his duty of bearing a child in the name of god.

“May the lord open.”

+++***+++

“We’ve been blessed with good weather.”

The smaller one, Offoltest, said without any emotion in his voice. He obeyed as every maid did. Never tell what you really think, because everything that reflected a free will was prohibited except for Gilead's leaders. Reading could cost a finger, doing it again and you lost a hand. Speak without permission and they cut out your tongue. Rebel against your duty, you loose an eye. Hold your head down and close your mouth, so you don't stir any trouble.

“In grace I go.” He returned blankly. A new maid that repeated the same words and verses over and over again, great. He was so sick of hearing this every day for months.

“How long have you been in Commander Ceallachs house?”  
The brunette turned his face just enough to barely look him in the eyes. No one seemed to be interested in them or were too far away to listen what they said.

He faltered and tried to act normal.  
“I’m here for 5 months now.” He answered quietly.

The other nodded. “My old commander returned me. I wasn’t successful enough…”  
If a handmaid didn’t fulfil their duty, an influential commander was able to request a new one. Male omegas weren’t wanted. They changed their owners faster than women did.  
“I’m sorry…” 

"To be honest, he wasn’t that invested to complete the ritual… Oh poor commander thought when he'd fuck me it would turn him gay. He never came to the point... if you get me.”  
He sounded bitter. But who wouldn’t be. Being used and thrown away like trash wasn't desirable.

“If they aren’t into men, they shouldn’t enslave omega for their great plan. It’s obvious that nearly all of us are gendertraitors.”

Offoltest nodded and a small laugh escaped him. “He’s blessed with a fertile woman I heard… may he rot in hell… and his dick fall off as well.”

Blue eyes turned to him and the other smiled a bit. He returned that smile, barely noticeable but it was the first real one in months. Maybe he wasn’t alone anymore.

“I’m Jaskier.”  
“I’m Geralt.”


	3. Children of god

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So_damn_Mishalisious is my beta. ♡
> 
> English is not my first language. 
> 
> Thank for all the support. All kudos and comments are welcome!

The displays in the supermarket were filled with oranges. Neither Geralt nor Jaskier had seen those fruits since Gilead closed the borders. The passed the armored guards at the entry and quiet chatting voices hung in the air. Other maids, marthas and a few wives made their shopping for the day.

Around the new arrived goods, a group of maids picked up the freshest fruits, putting them into their bags.

“Mind to pick up some oranges as well?”

The white haired omega looked over to the maids and spotted a brown haired omega, obviously in the last months of his pregnancy. Jaskiers eyes settled on him and Geralt nodded. “Sure.”

They walked over and he began to take a closer look at the display. His companion was off to the pregnant omega besides two other maids. They talked gently and quietly, none of them wanted to draw attention to themselves. The expecting omega looked exhausted but agreed to the silent wish of the little group and let them come closer to touch his round stomach. Each face lightened up and he heard congratulations whispered, before they separated and Jaskier joined his side again.

They walked to the next shelves and the smaller one took something off it.

“I felt it.” Jaskiers voice was thin and full of emotions. When his eyes met Geralt's, he saw joy but also a bit of hurt in them. “I mean… it was just a tiny movement, more prominent for the mother I know, but it…”

He beamed and Geralt nodded. He remembered the first time Ciri kicked him. It was unexpected and she got him in the wrong situation but it felt so more real after this.

“Do you… you know… did you have a child before?” Geralt turned his face back to the shelves and nodded again.

“Lucky you! A boy or a girl? You don’t have to answer. This is certainly personal, I know. I just wondered.” Jaskier wasn’t demanding. Normally the white haired man didn’t chat or talk much. Especially not about his personal stuff. He never talked much with the maid before Jaskier too. He didn’t know the other long enough to make himself a picture of him. He could betray him. Nobody should be trusted in Gilead.

“Never mind! What do you need to buy?”   
The tension that caught his body left him.   
“Fish and meat.”

“Good. I need some meat as well. The Martha at my house is fantastic cook. I think she rather hates me talking all day but she got some treats for me, as a minor welcome I guess. So I count myself lucky.”

Both handed their coupons over the counter and got a paper wrapped package. They thanked quietly them and made their way out of the market.

“I always got the tendency to talk too much, I know. But I hate it, when it’s silent.” Geralt smirked and shook his head. “I would have never noticed.” Jaskier giggled. Something about seeing Jaskier happy, made him feel lighter. His smile, which reached his blue eyes reminded him so much of his daughter.

“We could take the way at the river back home. It’s nicer there.”

Jaskier nodded enthusiastically and followed him.

The air near the water was cooler and fresher. The small path lead them away from the street. Also fewer people used this way. Fewer chances to get spied on.

They walked slowly along the wall. On some days, the eyes hung people here. A deterrence for those, who didn’t draw inside the lines.

They were blessed today. No corpses adorned their walk. A rare view.

“It’s really nice. Great idea to use this path.” The smaller omega said and smiled at him. Jaskier made the impression of being relax by the peaceful atmosphere.

“I could nearly forget that we’re in Gilead, sometimes. I miss my guitar. Places like this inspired me to write songs. Nothing special but it pleases me.” His voice became sad and they stopped at a lovely spot, where you could overview the whole riverside.

“How did they catch you? You don’t look like you are easy to hunt down.” Jaskier's gaze was fixed on the dark water as he spoke.

Geralt sighed. The memories of this day weren’t pleasant.

+++***+++

They directed him through a long dark corridor. It reminded him of a school. At least it smelled like the hall in his high school. Geralt felt the barrel of a gun in his lower back and his wounded leg hurt badly. They didn’t treat him with much care. No medication, just a lose bandage around his thigh.

They didn’t talk much. Just quick orders where he had to go and to hurry.

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut when they opened a door in front of him. The room was so much brighter than the hallway was.

Definitely a school, he thought when he saw the room, a gym with old wooden floor. There were rows of classroom chairs with tables in the middle and at each of them sat a young woman or a young man. He tried to calm his heartbeat, but the circumstances weren’t the best.

In front of the ‘class’ stood a woman with a straight hairstyle, an old-fashioned dress, which covered her whole body, a sharp face and eyes, that pointed towards him.

“Ah! A new recruit! Please take a seat.” She pointed at an empty chair in the back and the gun pressed harder into his back, so he had to move to the chair.

Walking was uncomfortable with his injured leg, but he wouldn’t show them what really was on his mind. Geralt walked as fast as the injury allowed him to move and sat at the shown place.

Nobody around him lifted their head to look at him. Some of them looked terrified. Others just exhausted. Just the girl in front of him had her arms crossed, eyes defiantly pointed at the wall to their left. Her foot tapped minutely on the ground, as if she was holding something back.

The insistent voice drew his attention back to the front. “I’m Aunt Tessaia. And you all are here to be saved.” The woman introduced herself and smiled in a way, a cold shower ran down Geralts spine.

“Your way of life was misled. But god takes care of all of you and led you to us. We prepare you to fulfill your destiny. The world was in the hand of infidels for far too long and where did they lead us? Into total chaos!”   
Her eye flew over them and his bad feeling only got worse. The girl in front of him shook her head and made a snide sound.

Tessaia didn’t seem to take note of it and turned to a screen where she showed pictures of pollution, uninhabitable landscapes and suffering people in the contaminated environment.

“We were selfish. Took what we wanted and never returned a single thing. And now we need to pay the price!”

The pictures switched to a statistic of human population. The numbers of born children lowered from year to year. Tessaia didn’t smile anymore.

“Humanity is dying! But there is a way to save us all. Gilead, our great reborn state, knows what we have to do. Selfishness lead us here but with humility and sacrifice we can be saved.”

Her glace wandered from one table to the next. “You forgot your god given duty. You let yourself be distracted by your career or got seduced by gendertraitors. But this is not what you all are made for! You will bear children and serve our leaders and their wives as their loyal handmaids. Only they can lead us out this misery and back to god!”

The white haired man could hear the blood pulse in his ears. The room begun to spin and he heard some of the others sob. Everyone seemed to despair over these words. He felt anger coil in his gut and the only reason he surrendered to that with his teeth tightly pressed together were the armored guards, who were lining the walls around them.

“Are you serious? I’m not a fucking horse you can breed just because you think you need to do this for god!”

The girl in front of him was furious. She screamed about the injustice and the inhumanity they treated them. Tessaia's look was cold. She slowlywalked closer and smiled when she stood in front of her.

“You will learn.” Her tone was calm and soft. There was confusion in the girl’s eyes and she twitched when two guards hauled her away, out of the room.

Tessaia turned and her glance was on him now. He didn’t notice that he got up from his chair. She walked to him and shoved a metal stick into his side. Electricity ran through him and made him back away. Clenching his teeth hard, not letting any sound escape him.

“We won’t accept misbehaviour. When you disobey, you will be punished. Learn your place. Or…”

He hissed in pain and sunk back at the chair. She walked next to him and felt the metal on his neck.

The next shock made him gasp for air and he tasted his own blood. The other in the room held their heads lower, some with their hands covering their ears.

“…you’ll regret it.”

Geralt sunk down to the table before him and his body trembled all over. Tessaia was still at his side. “Do you understand, maid?”

He couldn’t answer. His tongue felt like numb. He could only nod.

“Good. No worries. We will form you into proper and well behaved maid. You can leave your life behind and start your real and humble life in the name of god.”

+++***+++

“They chased me near the Canadian border. I was so close to escape…”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He couldn’t protect Ciri. Something he couldn’t ever forgive himself.

“Sorry to hear that. I…” the brunette searched for the right words. “I was at my doctor’s office. Had a miscarriage and an appointment for the aftercare. They took me aside and executed the doctor. Abortion practice and stuff… Never was afraid like that in my entire life.”

Jaskiers hands shook and he blinked fast. Geralt felt bad for him. So this was the reason why Jaskier was so excited about the pregnant omega in the supermarket and asked him about his child. He didn’t get to have a pup on his own.

Even if a fertile woman or omega became pregnant, about half of them lost the baby during the pregnancy. After knowing that, he was expecting the thoughts of losing the pup growing inside him to never leave him. And it had scared him. Every appointment at the doctor was nerve-wrecking.

But he was one of the blessed ones that made it through the nine months. Jaskier wasn’t.

He took a deep breath and cleared his voice.

“I have a daughter. Her name is Cirilla, but everyone just calls her Ciri. Didn’t see her since they got me… I hope she is fine.”   
Blue eyes turned to him and a spark of hope seemed to return. He didn’t know why he wanted to offer this person he barely knew that kind of comfort but something in his chest felt lighter when the tears in the blue eyes weren’t caused by grief but by joy.

“Oh. I’m sure she is fine. How… how old is she?”

“Nine. Next month is her birthday. The first one we won’t celebrate together.”   
Jaskier looked compassionate and his hand rubbed along his arm just for a moment.

"You'll be together. I firmly believe in it."  
Geralt nodded more to himself than to Jaskier.   
They will be. With or without the help of god.


	4. The ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful beta is so_damn_mishalicious
> 
> English isn't my first language.
> 
> Thanks for every kudo and comment!

It was only two weeks since he met Jaskier for the first time. These days, it becomes dangerous to feel comfortable about something. Things could change anytime. A false step, a look in the wrong direction or to open his mouth in a moment, when he should stay quiet.

To feel something was even worse. Geralt wasn’t the most emotional omega, more like the opposite. This was the face he always showed the world. And his masters liked it in him. At least they got nothing negative to say about him in the meantime.

Better everyone thought he was emotionless or cold hearted. Things always became more complicate when emotions came up, so it's better not to get engaged. It was easier this way. Except it wasn’t that easy with Jaskier.

Somehow, the brunette omega always chattered, quietly but he was always aware of it. He talked about everything and nothing. Geralt never had to start a conversation. Apart from the required phrases, he only had to nod or deny, whatever the question was. Sometimes even a quiet ‘Hm’ was enough to let the smaller one drift to a very different topic.

Jaskier seemed eager to keep him entertained. He dropped topics fast when Geralt stayed quiet for a bit too long or his body language betrayed him. Also he never looked sad or depressed when he appeared at the gate for their daily shopping tour. His deep blue eyes always smile at him and he became aware how much affection he felt for the other.

Unable to do anything against it, he looked forward to the time when he and Jaskier walked along the road and they often took the long way home, to spend some more time together.

You got used to things so quickly. Get up on time, wash your face, hide your hair under the hood, put on the red clothes. Humans were flexible and adaptable in a new environment. It lures you into a false feeling of security.

But Gilead offered no safety, not for a handmaiden.

It was a bad sign that Jaskier was late. The other was on time every day since they met. But on this day, Geralt stood outside the manor alone.

Minutes, which felt like hours, went by.

The guard from the other side of the road had his eyes trained on him, machine gun in hand. ‘Don’t try something stupid!’ his glare screamed.

His gaze wandered to the neighbor’s house. Finally there was a movement on the property. He saw how the white wings reached the gate and Jaskier stepped outside. He held his head low, so Geralt couldn’t see his face.

“Blessed be the fruit.” The white haired greeted, eyes directed to the smaller omega.

“May the lord open.” Jaskiers voice was thin and raspy. When he lifted his face a bit higher, Geralt had to hold back not to flinch.

Jaskier had a black eye and his lip was swollen. Fine veins had burst in the otherwise so clear blue iris and made it bloody red. The bruised lip had a deep cut right in the middle, which looked fresh, as if it just stopped bleeding shortly before they met.

He wore a scarf around his neck and Geralt could guess why his voice was so battered.

“Jas…” he wanted to say something, but behind the other, another guard looked insistently in their direction. “God sent us good weather.”

Jaskier nodded and started to walk at his side. He stayed silent.

After a few minutes, Geralt slightly turned his face to him again. “What happened?” He would understand when Jaskier didn’t want to talk about it. Being humiliated and going through it again by telling someone was hard. He also had scars all over his body and didn’t want to tell anyone what happened.

But Jaskier… he needed to communicate, he told him some days earlier. He couldn’t stand the silence.

“I…” his voice sounded so weak and broken. “… saw something I shouldn’t… the commander became very angry… I was lucky his sister intervened.” He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I’m sorry… can I… do something?” A faint smile crept onto his features. “No… but thank you. It’s nice. I know, I just have to go through this… but to know I’m not alone… makes it easier.”

Geralt didn’t know why this made anything better, but he had to admit that since Jaskier lived in the neighborhood, his days weren’t that desponded anymore. At least this kind of comfort he could give to the smaller omega.

“Are you up for the long way home?”

Geralt pressed his lips in a thin line before he answered. “Today is the ceremony… and I need to prepare myself…”

“Oh…” Jaskiers eyes rested compassionately on him and he made an agreeing noise. “Praise the lord. Then we should hurry up with the groceries.”

+++***+++

The scratching noise in the next cabinet became penetrant. They took too long already. It was just a matter of time, when an aunt would look for them.

“Yen are you done? This takes forever.” He kept his voice as low as possible. The last thing the two of them could use was drawing attention to them.

“Just a second! This is a masterpiece. It takes some time!”

The scratching movements became faster. Geralt climbed on top of the toilet seat and looked over the wall of the cabin. Yennefer looked up from her art, a sharpened knife in hand and rolled her eyes. “Pussy!”

The white haired shook his head. “You know they will cut off your hand for this. What are you writing anyway?” The black haired woman moved to the side. The wall of the former school toilet was full of sketches and graffiti with telephone numbers, names or swear words. Yen's words fit in there pretty well.

‘Don’t let the bastards get you down!’

“Hmm… is it worth it?” Yennefer looked stunned up to him. “Yeah? Of course! Do you really think I let them squeeze their semen into my pussy like a cow without defending myself? No thank you!”

A sharp knock at the door let both of them flinch. “Hurry!” Geralt whispered, got down and exited the cabinet. The aunt stood in the toilet a moment later and let her eyes wander over Geralt's frame. “What are you two doing in here? What takes so long?”

Geralt held his head low as he answered. “Apologies, aunt. Stomach problems and… monthly complains…”

Yennefer exited the cabinet as well and stood next to him. “Sorry, aunt.” She murmured, eyes directed to the ground.

The cold glaze in the aunt's eyes stayed, when she passed them and inspected the cabinets. Yen had hid the crafted knife inside the cistern and her quote disappeared under the other graffiti.

“Well… you two are late anyway!” The aunt stepped behind them and Geralt was the first to feel the familiar cold metal in his back before the electricity shot through his body. He moaned painfully and clenched his teeth. Yennefer followed shortly after.

They were dragged out of the toilet, to their next class.

Aunt Tessaia stood in the middle surrounded by a few beds. Geralt and Yennefer returned to the row of maids and waited for further instructions.

“My dear maidens, today, you will learn everything about the most important event in your serve as a handmaid. The ceremony. Get two of you together on one bed each.”  
Geralt and Yennefer exchanged a quick glance before they stood together at a bed.

"One of you will sit in the middle. You take on the role of the wife in this exercise. Come on! Don't dawdle!" Yennefer sat down in the middle of the bed, her gaze still on Geralt, who looked back.

“Sit up straight and spread your legs. Yes like this…” She wandered around the beds and corrected some positions. The ones on the bed had their ankles hung over the edge of the mattress.

“Well done… now the others! Sit down at the edge in front of the bed.”

Geralt moved around the bed and sat down at the edge as told, Yennefer right behind him. Tessaia walked slowly into the center. Her lips were formed in a slight smile, when she observed her obedient maids.

“Lay down and hold up your hands! The wifes will hold your wrists.”

The white haired felt vulnerable and helpless when he laid back and handed Yennefer his wrists. She also looked shocked by the situation.

“Like this you will conceive a child and help the wifes and their honored men.”

Yennefer shook her head and let go of his arms. “Are you serious? The men will have sex with us in front of their wifes? This is insane!” Geralt's heart beat fast when Tessaia stood right in front of them.

“And she said, Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her.” He wasn’t a religious man, but this couldn’t be true.

“This is your true destiny. This is the reason you all were born for.”

+++***+++

He sank deeper into the tub, his feet hung over the edge. The water was clear, no bubble bath or extra ingredients allowed. Even when he sat too long in the damn water, the Marta would knock at the door and check on him. There was the chance that he drowned himself, so they better played safe.

Geralt could hear her steps at the stairs, but he didn’t move. He looked up when she knocked and entered the room with an annoyed sign.

“You dawdling again? Please hurry a bit. There are people in this household, who have other things to do.”

He wouldn't trade places with her. As a Martha, she had to cook for everyone in the household, make sure the house was in good condition, wash all their clothes and so on. It wasn't fair to make her life difficult when the masters of the house actually deserved it.

He scrubbed his face one last time before he went for the towel and wrapped it around his waist. She had turned her back on him when he exited the tub to give him at least one last bit of privacy.

The Martha handed him the razor and watched him carefully. No blades were entrusted to a maid. After all, they were too valuable a commodity to risk losing one because of a too deep cut.

Finished with his preparations, he returned the razor and combed his hair back.

“Don't take too much time, the mistress is already waiting for you downstairs.” Her look was pitying when she left him alone to dress himself.

He didn't like his outfit for the ceremony. An ankle length robe in red.

He stepped downstairs when he thought he looked acceptable, not that he wanted to look good for the upcoming event.

He was the first who entered the living room. A red pillow lay in the middle of the room in front of an armchair. A quick look at the clock told him it was almost time. He kneeled on the pillow and waited. The next persons that entered the room was the Martha and the driver of the commander. They stood behind him, the Martha murmured quietly how much work she had to do, other than the rest of the household.  
Geralt resisted the urge to shake his head about this. At least she wasn't the one, who got raped every month.

After a few minutes the door opened again and Fringilla walked by. She sat on the chair and after a short objective look, she crossed her legs and waited. Silence prevailed in the room, only the ticking of the clock was heard.  
Minutes went by until the knock at the door sounded. This was the tradition and in this house tradition was very important. Cahir wasn't allowed to enter until Fringilla invited him. It meant that all was under her control.

"Come in." she said, her voice even and Cahir opened the door. He walked slowly with a bible in his hands. He bowed his head to his wife and bent down to kiss her cheek. When he turned around his eyes wandered to the kneeling person in front of him. Geralt's glaze went to the ground at the same moment.

"May we begin then..." The black haired commander opened the small inconspicuous book to read the verse the omega wouldn't forget his entire life.

"Rachel told Jacob 'Behold my maid, Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her and sleep with her.'"

He closed the bible and the servants left the room with bowed heads. Fringilla got up from her seat and opened the winged door, which led to the masters bedroom.  
Geralt moved to his feet and followed shortly after her. Cahir behind him, closed the door. 

His heart was beating fast, he couldn't control himself even if this wasn't the first time. He took a deep breath and sat down at the edge of the bed, like he was told. Fringilla also sat down in the middle of the sheets, waiting for him to lie down.  
Cahir stepped in front of him, eyes cold when he spoke directly to him. "You know what to do, Ofcahir."  
No choices left, Geralt laid back, eyes set on the ceiling and Fringillas hands around his wrists. She held him down with force, and her nails scratched his skin. Nothing to worry about but it was unpleasant. Like she was waiting for him to misbehave and resist the ceremony.  
He felt Cahir's hands on his legs when he lifted the robe and spread them to get better access. 

The white haired man closed his eyes. He needed to think of something else, to keep a distance to his body. When he rejected the ceremony they could easily hang him. 'Obey and everything will be fine' Aunt Tessaia used to say during her visits.  
He clenched his teeth when Cahir moved and entered his body.  
So it began.


	5. Lost in thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Rape in the first section. If you don't like it you can skip the first part.
> 
> As always thanks to my wonderful beta! @so_damn_mishalicious
> 
> Thank for kudos and comments!

It hurt. It always did. Cahir wasn't gentle by any means or took the time to prepare anything. Why would he even? This wasn't meant to feel good.  
Slapping sounds of skin on skin and Cahir's strained breaths were the only noise in the room. Fringilla looked away, fixated an invisible point at the wall. Her features were hardened, like she had to go through some kind of torture, but who wanted to see their own husband fuck someone else? Wanting a baby had a price, even for her.

Cahir's eyes laid on her face. Maybe he tried to support her in a way. Of course she needed it, of course it was harder not to be able to become pregnant instead of being raped infront of her. The white haired pressed his lips in a thin line, his fists clenched by the enorm impotence and injustice. They didn't deserve a single emotion of his.

Geralt stared at the ceiling like the other times before. The light green wall paint reminded him of Ciri's eyes. It was so easy thinking of her, getting distracted by the memories of his daughter. Her soft smile, the clear laughter when she was happy, the twitching pink lips when she tried to look sad to get something, her warm body when she slept in his arms.  
Was she missing him like he missed her? Was she fine wherever they brought her? Would she forgive him that he couldn't save her?

He snapped out of his thoughts when a hand pressed hard into his thigh. His breath was pushed out of him. Cahir's hips snapped further when he was forced to spread his legs until it was painful. He pushed deeper and Geralt couldn't hold back a pained grunt. He tried to catch himself, legs trembling unable to fight the stealth grip he was held in.

His arms buckled in Fringilla's hold and Cahir's attention was on him now. Geralt resisted the urge to fight the other man, that would cause him only more trouble. His breathing became faster. That bastard. Geralt's body wasn't aroused the tiniest bit to help the process. No slick was produced to ease the way Cahir took his body. As if they knew anything about an omega's biology.  
Geralt threw his head to the side and shut his eyes hard. Tried to concentrate on his breathing. Calm down. The sooner he relaxed the earlier he was over with that damn ceremony.

And after what felt like decades, Cahir uttered a suppressed moan and came inside him. It was finally over. The black haired man stayed like this for a few more moments to catch his breath before he moved.

He backed away and pulled his pants back on. Fringilla let go of him and slipped from the mattress.  
Both went to the bathroom and left him alone. He stayed on the bed, just pulled his robe down over his bared mid section. Aunt Tessaia hammered into his head that he had to stay where he was several minutes after the act to maximize the success.  
The soreness between his legs burned in the most uncomfortable way.

Geralt inhaled the air with a deep breath for the last time before he got up. His hood fell off when he sat up and strands of his white hair became loose, falling into his pale face. With shaking hands, he fastened them back into his bun and shoved the hood over the mess.  
A hiss escaped him after the first step he did, but he straighten his posture. He made his way back to his room and collapsed on his bed. His hand automatically wandering to his abdomen.

He hoped they weren't successful. Losing another child to Gilead might kill him. The darkness around him, made his body feel numb and he was thankful for it.

***+++***

Ciri smiled brightly when she ran towards him. The light green eyes shone within the sunlight, never leaving his own eyes.  
Her arms were wide open and her laugh rang clear and happy. 

He opened his arms as well and hugged her tight when she reached him. She smelled like the summer sun or a gently spring breeze. Her body was light and warm. She was so perfect when she cuddled close into his embrace as if she never wanted to let go. Never belonged somewhere else. His perfect little princess.

Ciri's soft curly hair tickled his nose and she giggled. Her eyes looked up to him, magnificent green orbs, so different from his own. ‘So beautiful…’ he thought when he placed a small kiss on her forehead.

“Daddy!” she mocked him, holding his face between her tiny hands. Her little thumb brushed over his cheek, picked up a loose streak of hair and moved it behind his ear.

She furrowed her eyebrows, when she inspected his face carefully. “What?” he asked in a soothing voice.

Cirilla laid her head to one side, so her blonde locks fell over her face.

“You look tired… and sad…” Geralt blinked a few times. He felt so happy to hold his little girl in his arms. Unharmed and healthy. Nothing mattered if he and Ciri were together like this. Why should he look sad?

“No… I’m fine, cub. Everything is alright.” A cold breeze touched their skins and goosebumps spread over his arms. Wasn't it sunny before? Didn’t he realize the slightly cold weather? The blonde girl wore her winter jacket and him? He didn’t know. And he didn’t dare to let his baby out of his sight, just to check on his clothes.

Ciri's gaze wandered to the dark shadows under his eyes. “Grandma said when you get these, you didn’t sleep enough. Or you cried.”

“I never…” his heart beat faster when he felt the worry of his daughter. He was okay. She shouldn’t be worried about him. He could handle himself.

“Where are you, Daddy?” she asked him, looking directly into his eyes. Her voice sounded strange. Hurt and uncertain.

“What are you talking about? I’m here, cub.” Ciri shook her head. She took a few steps back to bring distance between them. Just out of his reach. She glided out off his hold.

“No… I’m alone… and you’re not here!”   
Something was so very wrong. He reached for her, to hold her again and never ever let her go, but his feet didn’t move. They stuck to the ground he was standing on.

“Come here, cub. Please. I’m here!”   
Geralt held out his hand for her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes where unfocused, looking everywhere around her, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her voice was broken when she called for him.

“Daddy! Where are you? Don’t leave me alone!” she cried and her helpless voice broke his heart.

“Ciri! I’m here! I’m coming for you! Ciri!”   
his pulse rose and his heart felt like it was bursting out of his chest. He couldn’t lose her, not again! He fought his legs to move, but the ground pulled him down even more.

“Ciri!”

He was forced to look at how the girl turned to search for him, only to find herself alone, crying his name in pure panic and sank scared to the ground. Her gaze never met his when she looked through him.

His legs sank further in the ground. He screamed her name over and over, but neither his daughter seemed to hear him nor was his voice more than a whisper. Cold fear spread in his chest, now that his hip disappeared into the ground only to pull him in faster. He tried to push himself up, out of this trap to go after his child. His nails scratched over to dark ground without something to hold on.

Ciri's calls for him became hysteric and her desperation went through every single bone. “I’m here!”

The ground swallowed more of him. The last thing he saw was the fearful face of his lonely daughter before the darkness surrounded him completely.

***+++***

“Ciri!” 

With a shout of his daughter's name, Geralt awakened sweat soaked tangled in the sheets of his small room under the roof. The air was cold and only the low light of morning reached through the curtain of the east window.

His body trembled and tears welled up in his eyes. Just a damn dream. When he looked down on himself, he had to notice that he didn’t change into his nightshirt last evening. He collapsed on his bed and dreamed that shit.

Memories of Ciri's face flashed through his mind and the wave of fear to lose the one thing that meant the world to him broke down over him. Geralt got a feeling that his stomach turned and he jumped out of bed. He was in the bathroom and over the toilet in a few big steps. He vomited. The little amount of food he took in yesterday disappeared out of him.

It took him several minutes to put himself together enough to lift his head. He gulped the air in his lungs and coughed when it was too much at once.

With shaking hands, he heaved his body to the sink and washed his face with cold water.

When he finally calmed his breath and straightened his posture, he heard the creaking of the bathroom door. Now with his senses clearer, he could even smell the heavy flowery perfume of Fringilla.

He slowly turned to her. Her features mirrored suspicion but her eyes were wide with surprise. He swallowed and stood awkwardly stiff in the sticky clothes from last night’s ceremony. Hell, he didn’t take the time to wash himself afterwards. He could still smell like Cahir and her scent on him.

He didn’t move a single muscle when she entered the room with careful steps as if he was a deer, that could run away with a wrong move. Her voice was careful as well, a huge contrast to her strict commanding tone.

“You don’t feel well, Ofcahir?” He gaze wandered along his frame and stayed at his middle section a moment too long.

“Just a bad dream, ma’am.” She observed his motions before she nodded. “Heard you scream a name. I guess it was your daughter's?”

He clenched his jaw and agreed silently with a simple nod.   
“Hm… well I guess this means nothing. It is too early anyway to say if last night was a success…”

He furrowed his brows. Why should he know whether the ceremony bore fruit so early after…

“…but maybe god blessed us. Heard our prayers. I'll make you a doctor’s appointment as soon as possible. Just to be sure…”

Oh no. She thought that he threw up because of a pregnancy. He wasn’t, for sure. Not from Cahir. And such symptoms didn’t show one night after. 

“Make yourself presentable, I’ll let prepare you breakfast.”

Fringilla was out of the room in the next moment. He needed some time to adjust to the new information. Her reaction was… unforeseen and it would lead to a punishment when it turned out that nothing but shock of his dream caused him nausea.

He stripped the uncomfortable robe off his skin and reached for the rag to quickly clean himself. He ignored the leftover dried liquids between his legs and the darkened marks where Cahir held him in place. His wrists ached at the spots where Fringillas nails big into his skin.

He had to suppress rolling his eyes at the thought of his masters thinking him pregnant. You didn’t know at the very next morning. He had known about Ciri after a full month of never ending morning sickness.

But what should he expect from people that thought the best way to force a pregnancy on an omega was monthly raping, instead of waiting for a proper heat. Not that he was a good candidate for such procedure anyway, because of his irregular cycle. In fact, being bred in heat would be more than twice as efficient as monthly sex, but he was just an omega. Who was he to mention there would be a more successful way to an heir.

When had done his morning routine and put on new clean clothes he went downstairs. In the kitchen, the Martha was already busy and friendly greeted him. Just a first sign that should have made him suspicious. She pointed him to kitchen table where a bowl with good smelling milk rice steamed. He sat down and the Martha hurried to set a glass of fresh orange juice in front of him along with a small plate of strawberries.

“They are fresh! I traded them with another Martha for you. You like strawberries, don't you?" He nodded silently. "Ah! Good! I was a bit worried. I bake them an apple pie for exchange! Would be such a waste if you didn't like them. Do you want anything else?”

Geralt shook his head in confusion. Definitely not a normal behavior for the Martha. She wasn’t mean to him, but she was rough and always found something to correct him about.

“Could you imagine? A baby? Here? It would be so lovely to have one around. You didn’t ask for your suppressants till now… maybe…” she smiled hopefully at him. "May god bless you."

He wanted to scream. But the white haired omega remained silent. He shrugged his shoulders and took the spoon to still his hunger. The breakfast was good. Everything tasted perfect. The best breakfast he got in months. 

The Martha returned to her tasks when Fringilla entered the room and gave her a cold gaze. She sat in front of Geralt, so he stopped his breakfast and looked into her eyes.

“You will see a doctor later today. Unfortunately our former specialist turned out to be a traitor. So while he hangs on the wall, you will see a competent doctor from the red center. Do you know Dr. Stregobor?”


	6. The lesser evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter!
> 
> My wonderful beta hadn't time to read over this chapter so I used a program.
> 
> I apologise for every mistake! T.T
> 
> I hope you like it anyway. 
> 
> English isn't my first language and as always kudos and comments are very welcome!

Geralt bit his lip when he sat in the doctors’ room waiting for the treatment. A nurse took his blood for the pregnancy test, but he was insisted on getting a check-up. He felt bad over the last month and also the self-test was positive. But you heard more often that this test didn’t work correctly. He needed to be sure.

The door swung open and an old man with grey hair and beard entered the room. He got a file in his hands and didn’t look up from it while he took a seat in front of Geralt.

The omega was nervous. He wasn’t in time for typical yearly check ups, when he made them at all. He used to see a doctor to get birth control and suppressants.

“Good day, I’m Dr. Stregobor… Mister… of Rivia… huh…such an interesting name… well you got some problems with nausea and tiredness, right?”

Geralt nodded and shifted uncomfortable at the examination table.

“Since when do you notice these complaints?” his voice sound calm but uninterested. He still hadn’t look at his patient directly.

“Round about a month…”

Stegobors eyes went to the person in front of him for the first time since he arrived.

“So… when was your last heat? I didn’t found any files of your regular check ups, only your medication lists…”

The white haired twitched with one shoulder. “My last heat starts at the 14th… is last only 3 days and my heat isn’t coming regularly. And I don’t got the time for the appointments.” He felt like he needed to defend himself. He just didn’t want to see medical personnel in general and until now he didn’t need to.

Stregobor made notes in his file before the gestured Geralt to lay down and set his feet on the contraption. The vulnerable feeling spread through the omega even more when Stregobor put on his gloves and rolled with his chair between his legs.

The patients’ robe he wore was shove further down to bare more or him. His gaze wandered to the celling, and he tried to think of something else. Something nice that could help him to relax.

But the thoughts flowed out of the window when a cold device breached him and slid inside without further delay. He breathed through the pressure and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Do you have an alpha that take care of you?” the doctor voice was disapproving and calculating. He knew the answer. So why bother his patient with these questions?

Geralt snorted between clenched teeth before he answered.

“No… and I don’t need one.”

A chuckle came from the older man, and he shook his half-bold head. “Oh you do. Unmated Omega like you are… how should I say it… self-destructive… without an Alpha to keep you in place… well you see where it leads you.”

The Omega hissed through his teeth when Stregobor pushed the device further and took the probes. He wasn’t careful at all in his treatment.

Geralt took a deep breath when the medic was done, he didn’t even notice that he was holding it. He blinked a few times and sat up, covered his middle with the robe. His cheek burned with embarrassment.

“You might have guessed that you’re pregnant and I think so too, but we will get the results as soon as we get the blood test outcomes. Down there everything is fine, but I would recommend you to get a proper Alpha to take care of you and show you your place. Omega doesn’t have the control over themselves without an Alphas' guidance… they are unrestrained…”

Geralt was about to shout something in Stregobors face, but he was cut when the doctor stood in front of him again.

“This was kind advice to you, so you didn’t ruin this innocent and precious life, just because of your shameful self. God do have a plan for every single one of us. No matter how… dishonourable one could be.”

Anger and disbelieve flooded him. He didn’t appreciate the other man with an answer and left the room. He never changed that fast to flee the doctor’s office.

+++***+++

And now, he sat here again. In the same treatment room of the same doctors’ office. Stripped of his clothes, the same patients robe to cover his bare body. His mind felt numb. Like a drowned man, no way to escape this nightmare.

The office was more modern since his last visit ten years ago. The sharp smell of disinfection bit in his nose, but it barely covered the heavy scent of distressed omega pheromones. Flat screens and high technology equipment dominated the room. Stripped white clean wall completed the sterile look. Geralt felt his stomach turn when busy steps sound outside the room, followed by quite chatter of the guards in front of the door. His hand clenched in his lap to calm his fast beating heart.

When the office door swung open, the white haired held his eyes pointed in his lap. He didn’t tremble. He would not give the doctor this.

“Well… nice to meet you again… excuse me… I’m terrible in remembering names… be so kind and help me out. You were…”

Stregobor eyes shine with fake smile and the acted friendly behaviour. The old man took his pleasure of his situation. The Omega lifted his chin to look him in the eyes. “Ofcahir, Sir.”

The smile in the doctors’ face only grew brighter when he nodded. “Ah I see… let’s move on with the treatment. I’ve heard that you may have been blessed. Lay down, and we will see if you did fulfil your duty.”

There it was again. The spark of anger jolt trough Geralts body, but he fought it down. Back in the darkest corner of his mind. He had to survive. He was humiliated worse before, he could stay through this too.

His back met the chair, and he had to spread his legs once more. Tears swelled in his eyes, but he blinked them away as fast as they came up. The old man's hand felt cold against the skin of his tight, and he twitched he Stregobor touched him without a warning.

The medic took his time to study the sigh before him. After what felt like an eternity, he grabbed his supplies and started. “Don’t move, or it will hurt.” It already did. Geralts hissed, even with knowing what he was going through, he was still sore from last night. The burn when he enters him nearly overwhelmed him. He bit his lips hard to keep the noises inside but the trembling breath that escaped him betrayed him.

“Cahir was a bit rough to you, I see… but there are only small injuries. It seems like it isn’t something new for you anyway… by all this scars, so nothing to worry about. In the end… male Omegas like you are made for this. A mutation. A failure of nature to correct the infertile part of humanity.”

An angry grunt was the only answer Geralt gave him.

“You have to see the positive sides. This unfortunate mistake in evolution made you worthy and Gilead help you find your true meaning in life… if…” Stregobor took the probes and set them aside.

“… You get pregnant. A rare chance if I’m honest. You know scientist outside Gilead made an interesting study. Sterility isn’t coming from the woman or omega. Not entirely. It’s ninety-five percent that your commander is sterile too.”

Sterile. The word was forbidden in Gilead. It was blasphemy to talk like this. Impossible that men weren’t able to produce offspring. It was published that it was the fault of women and omega, who chose their life over the god given task to bear children. He never believed it, but Gilead did. At least they made everyone believed it.

The omega furrowed his brows, and he lifted his head to see what the doctor was doing. He left his place between Geralts spread tights and turned to lock of the door, so it was closed from the outside.

Geralts gaze followed him when he returned and stood where the seat was.

“I could offer you a way out. No more ceremonies with Cahir, you could have your piece…”

His cold hand was laid on his inner tight and moved further down.

“Think about it. Fringilla and the commander will blame you for it. You can only receive pain and torture for something you have no force in… but there is a lesser evil…”

The white haired withdraw the urge to chuckle over the offering. Being raped by Stregobor or Cahir. Both great options. He cleared his throat before he answered.

“I rather pray to god to bless me. I’m sure he would disapprove if I betray the commander… I’m sure you understand… Doctor.”

Stregobors reaction was painted in his face. Disappointment and false pity. He made a slight movement forward so the front of his knickers touched Geralts bare mid-section. The omega growled at him unwillingly.

“I could take what I want, you know… You would have no choice, but to accept what happens… nobody would come to help you…”

Geralt clenched his teeth hard and forced his fast beating heart to calm. He took a breath trough his nose and looked straight in Stregobors eyes.

“As I heard, the punishment for rape of a handmaid is stoning. Not a very pleasant way to go if you ask me, but what do I know. I’m just a vessel of god to bear children for Gilead. And… correct me if I’m wrong… sex with a man, outside a ceremony means to hang at the wall. You wouldn’t dare to break Gileads holy rules, or would you, doctor?”

Stegobors pupils narrowed. He didn’t move away from him. Geralt could still feel the man's’ erection trough his pants. But he wasn’t as confident in the situation as he was before.

“Or is your desire for my body bigger than your belief in god?”

He twitched when a hand grabbed his throat and the pressure made it hard to breathe normally.

“It was a generous offer that I made you. You will come back on your knees and beg that I take you. Remember my worlds, Geralt of Rivia. You choose your torture…”

He released him and took a few steps back. He sat at the table and started to write down the protocol.

Geralt sat up and pushed himself on his feet. Obviously, the appointment was over, but Stregobor didn’t unlock the door, so he stood beside it and waited.

It took several minutes for the old man to finish his work, before he turned and met Geralts gaze again.

“I’m sorry to tell you that the test results are negative. We inform your commander. I wish you more luck the next ceremony, Ofcahir.”

He pronounced the given name and came close when he unlocked the door. Geralt wanted nothing more than to take the chance and leave this place behind.

The white haired grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

“Oh before I forget that… I’m so forgetful these days…” the fake smile returned and a cold shiver ran down Geralt’s spine.

“Cirilla got a new name as well… not that you’ re going to see her ever again but… maybe you’re interested that her new parents got a better name for her.”

He stumbled out of the door and one of the guards guided him back in the black car that drove him to Cahir and Fringilla. The front row was separated by a shatter- and soundproof glass.

He sunk in the seat his breath came fast and irregular. When the motor started and the car moved, he screamed.


End file.
